An Irishman's Journey
by TheEndsongAbyssXV
Summary: Tommy Ryan was about to start the biggest adventure of his life: going to America on the one and only RMS Titanic. But can he really just pack up and leave all he's ever known and loved? Or will fate step in and take control? (Oneshot for now so I'll mark it as complete but I may make this a multi-chap about the film if enough people want Me to.) Tommy/OC. R&R! RATED FOR LANGUAGE


Author's Note:

Yo. *salutes* I am a _**HUGE **_fan of the Titanic. Not just the film, but the event itself. Ever since the movie came out in 1997 (17 YEARS AGO, HOLY SHIT!), I've been obsessed, buying any video and book I could about it. I can quote the entire film word-for-word from start to finish, I can name most of the cast and crew involved, both fictional and non.

This story is about the film itself, and one of the reasons I love it so much. Most girls my age (and I was only seven-years-old when the movie debuted) were all about Leonardo DiCaprio and how hot he was, but I was all about Jason Barry, or Tommy Ryan as he's known in the film. I felt that he didn't get nearly enough screen time, even with the deleted scenes, and there's a controversy within the Titanic fandom (we call ourselves 3rd Class Partiers) that Tommy didn't die from the gunshot he received from Murdoch because the life vest acted as padding that prevented a fatal injury and he simply fell unconscious. There's also controversy that Fabrizio didn't die when the steam funnel collapsed into the ocean and that he was on the other side of it and lived. (Which sucks because his love in the film, Helga, did die, and I wanted them to have a HEA.).

Anyway, this is just a little oneshot (I may expand if people want) about Tommy before he got on the fated ship. Hope ya enjoy. R&amp;R, please.

Siobhan is pronounced "Shiv-ahn". So "Sio" is pronounced as "Shiv". Her faceclaim is Fiona Gallagher as portrayed by Emmy Rossum.

…

It was a cool, crisp autumn day in Dublin, Ireland. The leaves were shifting from bright green to warm yellows and reds, the sky darkened earlier, and crops slowed their summer flourish. The air changed from warm and balmy to sharp and cool. It rained more, the thick gray clouds blocking the noonday sun and driving away the warmth even further.

"Go pick tomatoes, Siobhan, go gather the herbs from the garden, Siobhan, it looks like rain, Siobhan." An annoyed groan left lips that were pursed in disdain as the woman snarled under her breath. "Well it bloody does now!" she turned back towards the farmhouse and cursed it.

The grass rippled in the dying sunlight, thick gray clouds rolling in from the South and sending drafts of cool, moist air over the plains and farmland. Her orchard was in full bloom, the scent of honeycrisp apples filling the air as she abandoned the rows of potatoes and cabbage and took off, bare feet moving swiftly as raindrops began to fall from the sky. Her orchard had a dip in the middle, and water would often collect there, and she'd lost four trees before and had no interest for it to happen again.

"Blasted rain-!" she cursed and grabbed the large cheesecloth covering she used to protect her center trees.

"Watch your mouth, young lady."

Siobhan couldn't help but smile, "Why bother when you're watching it for me, King?"

Sighing at the moniker, Tommy Ryan chuckled and set down the three satchels he was carrying. "Because, lass, your father is coming and I doubt he'd like hearing his precious daughter speak in such a vulgar manner." His thick sandy curls were already plastered to his forehead, and his shirt was likewise drenched.

"Then help me and I won't swear!" Siobhan was struggling, feet digging deep into the mud, rain falling harder, sticking her dark hair to her neck and face. "Why does it rain more in Ireland than back home?"

Tommy grabbed one half of the thick cloth and dragged it across the waist-high trees, admiring the large red and yellow fruits that hung from its gnarled branches. "I keep forgettin' that you're from the mainland. Not much rain in England, then, eh?" Tommy's skin quickly became covered with flecks and splashes of mud but luckily the makeshift tarp was doing its job of keeping the rain from pooling to much and ruining her precious fruits.

Siobhan tied the corner of the cloth to a wooden stake in the ground to hold it in place; luckily the wind wasn't hard enough to blow away the shelter. "Oh, there's plenty, love, just not as much as here with all you pasty white bog people."

"You've got the blood o' the Irish runnin' in your veins too, it doesn't matter if you were born here," Tommy assumed a bored expression, "Plus, you're short."

Siobhan looked affronted, but the comment rang true. She was much shorter than Tommy was, coming up to his chest, just below his shoulders. Hazel eyes glared upward into steely blue ones that sparkled with amusement.

"Well you're a-you're a-" She nailed the man in the shoulder with her fist, and Tommy feigned agony, clutching his bicep and groaning, falling to one knee and begging forgiveness. Siobhan crossed her eyes and loomed over the man. "You're muddy, is what you are."

She barely had a second to react when Tommy grasped her arm and dragged her to the wet ground. Water and mud instantly soaked through her tunic and skirt, splashed into her hair and dotted her skin like freckles. With an indignant squawk of rage, she hurled a rotten apple at the man, who dodged it and laughed, kicking up mud as he jumped to his feet.

Siobhan screamed with mirth as he fired a pebble at her, and the two skated around each other, Tommy armed with mud, Siobhan readying her hands with a sack of potatoes.

"_Ahem_." The sounds of laughter was silenced as Siobhan's father, Liam MacNamara, stepped into the orchard, umbrella protecting his frame from the weather.

"Da," Siobhan greeted, hiking her satchel of potatoes up her back and nodding at the man. When he didn't respond, she quickly dipped behind him and started up towards the farmhouse, giving Tommy a mock-salute where her father couldn't see. "I'll take these to Mama, I guess."

After she vanished through the door, Liam ushered Tommy towards the porch where they could avoid the rain. The house was small, with only two rooms and a small alcove for a kitchen. Not fit for the family of six. The MacNamara's had four children; Siobhan, Alistair, and the twins Connor and Liam II. Siobhan was the oldest at twenty-four, Alistair at twenty-one and the twins at seventeen. The family made their living by selling produce, and Siobhan's homemade apple butter was highly sought after in the marketplace. They were saving up to move to the city, where they could open a store, and Tommy often helped cart the jams, jellies and spreads that Siobhan and her mother made.

"Here is your pay," Mr. MacNamara said, handing Tommy a small envelope. It wasn't much, but it would buy his dinner. "Now what's this I hear about you taking leave, boy?"

Tommy frowned. _Damn. _He knew Siobhan would have said something sooner or later. "Yes sir, I'm going to America."

Liam stroked his beard and mulled this over. "Well good on you. I hope it goes as you plan. But you better tell Siobhan. She is your best friend, after all, isn't she?"

"She knows already." Tommy replied.

"But she doesn't know it's permanent. It will take you years to get enough money to purchase another ticket to come here again, and by then…" His eyes were amused, as though he'd shared a personal joke. He bid Tommy goodbye and went into the house.

…

Siobhan watched as the men and women milled about the cobblestone marketplace, checking out the fresh produce and baked goods. The air was still heavy with the scent of rain, but the warmth from the bakers racks chased away most of the chill. It was Sunday, and the first Mass of spring was in a few hours, and Siobhan's mother wanted to get enough food sold for tithes, as well as extra for themselves.

The apple butter was gone, all eleven jars of it. Siobhan smiled with pride at the sad expression of Old Man Fergus, one of the Scottish immigrants. The man was on business often, and always made sure to bring the confection back home with him. But today it had gone quick, and she'd forgotten to save a jar for him. However, he was happy to take two jars of her apple marmalade and a loaf of sweetbread. Her total haul had landed her seven dollars altogether, and she grinned, watching as her mother talked about the spiced apple ale they'd made. They were doing well today.

_Now if only I could sneak off._ It wasn't that she didn't like selling her product, it just got slow after the initial start and then it dragged on for hours, depending on the weather. But it was still chilly, and the hem of her skirt was still wet from goofing off earlier that morning with Tommy. _I wonder what he's doing?_

She was pulled from her thoughts as her mother came by with a smile, "Why don't you head home? There's not much left to sell, and you should check and make sure the orchard is covered. It looks like more rain is headed our way."

"Aye." Siobhan nodded, picking up her apple basket and pocketing her money, smiling at the wayward patrons as they passed. She started humming to herself as a small break in the clouds offered much appreciated sunlight, and she soaked up the warm light as she walked back through the rolling fields towards her home.

…

Three days. That's how long it would be until he left. First passengers would leave from Southampton, England and then Titanic would make trips to other ports in Europe before finally setting sail towards New York in America. It was a great opportunity for anyone who needed a fresh start on life, and God knew he did. Tommy had been raised by his single father, and helping to find work at a young age. His mother had dies of an illness when he was small, and he didn't really remember much, except that his father often said they had the same crooked smile. But his father was older now, and couldn't work on his own. So Tommy worked, taking any job, so long as it put coin in his pocket. His ticket wasn't extravagantly priced, but forty dollars was a pretty penny that could have bought nearly a month's worth of food for his father and himself.

But his father agreed, America could be a good thing for Tommy and his life. He was still young, barely into his twenty-seventh year of life. He could find a decent job, start a family, _live,_ like his father had not.

Tommy took a deep drag on the clove cigarette he had, blowing the sweet, fragrant smoke away and sighing deeply. He had all this things packed, had for nearly a fortnight now, but he didn't want to leave immediately, though his father had suggested her get to port so he'd be the first one on board and not get left behind.

[Listen to this, it's the song Siobhan is singing and gives a good feel for this part of the chapter, just remove the spaces and add the periods: www dot youtube dot com /watch?v = ftHsdVxBhjs]

Tommy inhaled again, turning around and wandering off, letting his mind go off on the familiar tangents he'd had as of late. He'd heard so many stories of America, but he was full of nervous excitement. Would he find a job? When would he be able to visit home again? Dimly he heard music, and it wasn't until he stumbled on rain slicked stone that he noticed he'd arrived at the MacNamara orchard.

And there was Siobhan, on her knees and placing apples into her basket, singing. She thought that talking to her tress helped them grow, and the sweet melody that rose from her lips gave him pause. She wiped mud from the trunk of the gnarled tree, and plucked the fruit from its branches, wiping the surface on her dress until they were nice and shiny. He was going to miss her, she was his best friend, his confidant, and he was afraid of the small chance that he'd never see her again for years, if at all!

The rumble of thunder cut Siobhan off and she looked skyward before catching sight of Tommy, and her eyes flared for a second. Her hair was falling out of the messy bun she'd made, and gave her a slightly feral look.

"What is it, King?"

"Will ya stop callin' me that?" he laughed, taking a final puff of his cig before pocketing the nub.

"But that's what _Ryan _means. Just like _MacNamara _means warrior of the sea. Which is funny, really, because have you seen my father? He's not exactly a warrior, and I'm pretty sure he's never seen the ocean either."

"I'm probably going to be sick of it by the time I reach America," he scoffed, and Siobhan frowned. She had almost forgotten that he was about to take off on some grand adventure for God knew how long. "And don't you ever get sick of that song?"

"You helped me write it, remember?" Her voice was soft as she picked up her basket and headed towards the porch. "How long until you leave?"

"Three days."

Siobhan smiled as raindrops started to tattoo a pattern on the roof of the house. "Well come see me before then, I have something for you." With a final smile, she walked inside and shut the door.

…

He didn't come back.

The next two days went by in a blur, what will all the jam and ale and butter making they did, plus the issue with two carrot crops rotting before harvest, Siobhan had no time to think of anything except getting money and figuring out how to save her precious veggies and fruit.

She had completely forgotten the fact that Tommy was leaving for America until mass the next night. The church was full, except for three seats. Tommy's, and two others that belonged to Mister and Missus O'Neal, both of whom had secured tickets on Titanic. They were an elderly couple with no children, and decided that in their old age, they would do something fun and spontaneous. This included selling their house and saving enough money for a pair of second-class tickets aboard the luxury ship.

When Siobhan had discovered that the ship left port and headed for America in less than a day, she was positively murderous.

"I'm going to stab him in the neck with my paring knife." she said in an oddly calm voice. "The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him. _How dare he not say goodbye to me, that miserable git?!_" her voice rose two octaves and Alistair frowned at his sister.

"Why don't to you go to Queenstown and see if you can find him long enough to say goodbye? The ship doesn't leave port for another six hours, so if you run, you could make it." The man smiled at his sister, "Just make sure you don't kill him in front of any officers, you know."

Siobhan's face fell and she stood abruptly, storming out of the crowd of churchgoers and seeking out her father, who was laughing with a group of friends. She waited two heartbeats before getting his attention.

"I'm leaving." she said, and Liam MacNamara's eyes widened a bit, but he chuckled at his eldest child, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Be safe, my darling," he cupped her face and kissed her forehead, smiling at his wife as the pair watched their daughter take off into the crowd, yelling endearments back to them. The twins seemed confused, and Alistair checked the fruit stall to make sure that his sister's paring knife was actually still there and she wasn't really going to hurt Tommy.

"Run fast!" Connor yelled, and Liam II grinned, giving a cheery little wave.

And run she did.

Siobhan ran all the way home, until her lungs were burning and her heart was racing to where she dimly thought she was going to pass out. She all but burst through the door, knocking over the coat hanger and almost tripping as she darted through the small farmhouse. But she had something important to show Tommy, and if she missed this chance-!

…

Tommy stared at the letters in his hand. One for his father, one for the MacNamara family. He didn't want teary goodbyes, or sudden feelings that may change his mind about leaving. He would miss his friends and family, but he _had_ to do this. He had to do something with his life, make a name for himself. He didn't want to just waste his time running around Ireland and helping his father, living in a house that was little more than a shack with two rooms. Half of the small town he lived in was full of ramshackle homes filled with children the parents couldn't afford to take care of, and thought there were other places in Ireland that were in much worse condition, his life hadn't been easy.

Once he'd sent the letters off with the couriers who were taking parcels and letters from shipgoers at the Queenstown docks, he wandered into a nearby pub and ordered a beer. The small bar was packed, with people chattering about their loved ones who were leaving, or others who were celebrating their chance at a new life in the Land of the Free.

…

Tommy woke up to the blaring of a foghorn, and the din of the dock bell chime. He groaned, readjusting his hat onto his head, and yawning as the sunlight blinded him. It was a quarter past eight, according to the clock staff in on the dock, and Tommy lifted his body from the bench he'd slept on and took a deep breath. In less than an hour he'd be on his way.

Hopefully the letters would get to their intended recipients before too long after he left. He didn't want his father worrying forever about whether he'd made it safely onto the ship or not.

The lines were long and people were clambering over each other for hugs and one last kiss and rushes to organize luggage. But it moved fast. Nurses were stationed to check for nits and lice, or any other illness, and then they shifted passengers into the ship by order of arrival, which was great because most of the First Classers were chatting jovially amongst themselves like this was just a vacation at a resort, and they'd come back soon.

Inside, he imagined, it was even worse.

"Thomas Barry Ryan!" For two seconds, horror flooded Tommy's system and he turned to see Siobhan, red faced and out of breath, her hair loose and flyaway, like she'd been running. Her fists were balled up and she had a bag in her hand, which she waved towards him like she was going to smack him with it.

"Sio, the hell are you-"

"I said I had something for you, you absolute twat! You were supposed to come back and say goodbye so I could show you!" Oh, her anger was refreshing.

Tommy ran a hand over his head, readjusting his hat. "Right, right. I'm sorry, Sio. What did you want to show me?" With a glare, she thrust her hand into the bag she held, mumbling incoherently to herself. No doubt about him being a jerk. And the moment she pulled her hand up and flashed what was clutched in her grasp, his heart stopped.

"Guess who's going to America?" she grinned, flashing the third class ticket.

…

THE END!

Or is it?

Should this become a series that follows the film, or should it be a oneshot? Let me know! Read and review, please~!


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